


Sunset Over Us

by Corvid_Knight



Series: Demonstuck [68]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Demonstuck, M/M, equius is so smart but he forgets people sleep in beds, look at these idiots. look at them., rarepair week 2020, sleepover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:54:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25127308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corvid_Knight/pseuds/Corvid_Knight
Summary: "You forgot people sleep in beds, didn't you?""Erm." Equius spreads his fingers, one vibrant cobalt eye peeking out at you. "...yes?"Hal spends the night at his boyfriend's place and has an interesting revelation about the interior decor.
Relationships: Auto-Responder | Lil Hal/Equius Zahhak
Series: Demonstuck [68]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1003470
Comments: 12
Kudos: 67





	Sunset Over Us

You are not going to laugh at your boyfriend.

For one thing, it would be rude, and Equius is nearly always excruciatingly polite, to nearly everyone. Hell, he's polite to _Dirk_ , and you've told him a thousand times that one of your great purposes in life is to remind Dirk that you are a monument to his sins in as obnoxious a manner as possible. For another, if he didn't like your laughing at him, he could quite literally pick you up and bodily remove you from his house, not that you're worried about that. He's a bit preoccupied at the moment—grappling with the crippling embarrassment of a major social faux pas, by the looks of it. You'd be reassuring him if you weren't struggling to contain hysterical laughter yourself.

"Equius—"

"No." One of his hands—god but you love his hands, how they're larger than yours in every dimension, strength so obvious in them every time he touches you—stays over his face, hiding most of the bright blush that's pretty much taken it over. The other comes up in a warding-off gesture, like you can't slip around _that_ without even really trying. "I _know_ , Hal, don't say it—"

"Baby, you asked me to sleep over and you don't have a _bed_." Your voice wavers on the last word—there's that urge to laugh again. No bed. Several things vaguely resembling a bed—couch, kitchen table, workbench—but no actual, literal bed.

"I am a _kelpie_ , Hal—it's easier to turn horse at night and sleep in the pond, or in the backyard—"

"Yes, but I don't think that's going to work for me."

"I realize that now, but—"

"You forgot people sleep in beds, didn't you?"

"Erm." Equius spreads his fingers, one vibrant cobalt eye peeking out at you. "...yes?"

That's it, that's the last straw. The admission, the sheepish pose, this whole situation—you're done. Not in a bad way, though.

He's just so _stupid_. You love him, he's a certifiable genius and would probably be internationally acclaimed if he ever bothered to put his work in robotics into the public eye, and he _forgot that people sleep in beds_. Your boyfriend is a himbo and you love him so very much that you can't breathe.

Although that probably has something to do with being doubled over laughing at him. Better get that under control.

It takes a minute—every time you look at him you crack up again—but eventually you get yourself under control, give up on controlling the grin, and step in to pull him down for a quick kiss. "God, you're lucky it's summer. I've got blankets in the truck—snag one of the cushions off your couch and meet me outside?"

* * *

Twenty minutes later, you're thinking that hey, maybe the fact that he doesn't have a bed is a _good_ thing, actually. The blanket's spread on the grass of the backyard, Equius is lying on the blanket and you are lying on Equius. The sun's not quite gone down—thank all that's holy for early-summer sunsets—and the sky might as well be on fire at this point, all red and orange striatum that's reflected in Equius's eyes.

You could get distracted by the angles involved to let you see that from where you're lying with your chin on your arms and your arms on his chest, but there's better things to be distracted by at the moment. Such as... "God, you're hot."

He flushes, instantly. "Hal—"

"Not like that. Well, _yes_ like that, you know I think you're absolutely smokin', just a beacon of sex appeal, but I meant in the literal sense this time." You shift to free up a hand, pressing it to his forehead to get the right kind of contact to take a temperature reading. "See, that's up over a hundred. Don't tell me I'm exciting enough to give you an instant fever?"

"Hmm...no." Equius stays still, other than a few bemused blinks, until he realizes what you're doing. Then he rolls his eyes and reaches up to catch your wrist, drawing your hand down to kiss your palm. "Normal human body temperature is only normal if you're a human."

"Oh." You blink, turn your thoughts inward and outward at the same time—even though you've lived with access to it as long as you've existed, you're still not sure exactly what the mechanism for running a quick mental web search is—and find that Wikipedia confirms he's well within the correct temperature for an adult horse. "...that makes sense, actually. Remind me to check Davepeta's temperature when I get home."

"You expect a different result from them?"

"Hm, maybe." You've checked your kids—Jr, Seb, and Liv, the little shikigamis—to be sure they're within safe operating parameters, and you've checked Davesprite once or twice when he managed to find a bug that affects cockatrices...but Davepeta's another story. You're not even sure they _can_ get sick. "Call it data collection. Oh, and you should kiss me."

He still goes red when you say it so casually, but at least he doesn't freeze up like any real attempt at romance tends to make him do. "Come here, then."

It's maybe six inches between his face and yours, and he could simply _move_ you with ease. You appreciate his reluctance to do so, and wiggle up enough that the distance goes from six inches to three to _none_.

Mmm. It's almost certainly personal grooming habits rather than his supernatural blood—not like the faint haze of cinnamon that follows Grey, or the odd scent of wet feathers Davepeta gives off when they’ve just taken a bath—but Equius smells good. He always smells good, leather and machine oil and something else that you still haven't managed to identify, but it's so much more obvious when he's kissing you. It's not so much distracting as enhancing, adding another delicious layer to the experience.

The experience ends sooner than you'd prefer, mostly because unlike you, Equius does _need_ to breathe. He tips his head back and you withdraw, feeling a grin spread across your face at the expression on his. "Hey."

"Hm?"

"It's an age-old tradition that _sleepovers_ involve very little _sleep_. Who are we to go against that?"

Instead of answering, Equius just groans and pulls you into another kiss. You have to smile against his lips—this is, after all, almost exactly what you were aiming for.


End file.
